"I do."
"Well, this copyist on whom I had cast my eyes, this honest man whom I promised to discover, is discovered, and is no other than the guardian of Bathilde."
"Buvat?"
"Himself! Well, I give you full powers, you go to his house, you offer him gold, the door is opened to you on the instant, and you can sing as much as you like with Bathilde."
"My dear abbe," cried D'Harmental, "you have saved my life!"
D'Harmental took his hat, and darted toward the door; now that he had a pretext he doubted of nothing.
"Stop, stop," said Brigaud; "you do not even ask me where the good man must go for the papers in question."
"To your house, pardieu!"
"Certainly not, young man, certainly not."
"Where then?"